Espial
by Chaina
Summary: When Liz gets a vision of the Nicholas and the Skins in the small town of Smallville, reality as they know it changes, as new allies are befriended and discoveries of the past revealed. Chlark, M/L
1. Default Chapter

Title: Espial  
  
Author: Jen E-mail: ChloeSullivan47@yahoo.com Category: Roswell/Smallville crossover; M/L, M/M, C/C (for now) Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Roswell and Smallville don't belong to me.  
  
Summary: A year after the series finale of Roswell, we find our gang in Metropolis. When Liz gets a vision of the Nicholas and the Skins in the small Kansas town of Smallville, reality as they know it changes, as new allies are befriended and discoveries of the past learned. (The fic also takes place a couple of weeks after the Smallville episode "Fever." Everything prior to that applies. Everything after, does not.)  
  
Pronunciation Key:  
  
Pireron: Pie-re-ron Procyon: Pro-ki-on Khorel: Coral Regolus: Redge-o-los Lyraeve: Ly-rave Dayhes: Da-hees Ralitle: Ra-little  
  
Shayna: Shae-na  
  
techin': tetch-n Avieheina: Avy-hee-na  
Prologue  
  
The dim, ancient halls of Pireron Castle echoed with the resounding argument between General Rathan Procyon and his youngest sister, Khorel. A nearby royal guard, standing alert and attentive in his navy blue uniform, with the royal crest of the House of Regolus glittering on his chest from the glowlights that lit the hall, glared at the two relatively young people as they passed. He raised his arm in a message telling the siblings that these halls they were about to enter on were that of peace and silence. In respect, both Rathan and Khorel lowered their voices, but their bickering continued.  
  
"Rath, you're not listening!" Twenty-three year old Khorel Procyon waved her hands into the air in disgust, her blackish-blue hair, cut in the most modern Kryptonian trend, bobbed up and down with her movements. Anger and frustration was expressed in every inch of her features. Her emerald green eyes shown with a desire to help, and a hidden anguish over the recent lost of someone dear. She looked up to Rathan, his two meter height dwarfing her 1.5 meter stature, and met his dark sapphire eyes. "He trusts me. Nitcho befriended me while I was on Krypton. Actually, if you want to get technical, I think he wants more than friendship from me, but that's not important."  
  
"Is it?" Rath questioned, glaring at his sister. Ever since she had arrived home from studying on Krypton, every word spoken by his sister had been another reason why she should join the Royal Army and spy for the House of Regolus. As much as he admired her stubbornness, persistence, and dedication - qualities Rathan wished he saw in more of his soldiers and spies - her attempts were starting to wear thin.  
  
A complete contrast to his youngest sister, from physical features to emotional expression, Rath's face remained ever the bit serious and hardened. As a general, and second-in-command to King Zandor Regolus, he had learned never to reveal his emotions to anyone, even his own sisters. Especially your own sisters, Rathan thought sarcastically. Kor had always been much more difficult to handle than Lyra ever was. Come to think of it, in all his thirty years, he had never met anyone as difficult to deal with as Khorel.  
  
"What? Are you afraid that I'm going to go and get myself killed? C'mon Rath, give me more credit than that." Khorel snorted in laughter. She quickly covered her mouth as a guard by his post flashed a warning glance in her direction. Rath's eyes narrowed in anger at his sister.  
  
"I've already buried one sister," he whispered harshly, grabbing her wrist tightly. "I'm not going to again."  
  
Tear's filled Khorel's eyes and she stopped walking. Memories four-years- old rushed back, overwhelming the girl. She had been on break from her schooling on Krypton when it had happen. On a day free from royal and diplomatic duties, her elder sister, Lyraeve had been enjoying a quick retreat in the Dayhes Ocean with their parents. They had never returned home that day. It had broken Khorel and Rathan's heart to find out that their parents and sister had been murdered by rebel forces from Seridon. Their brother-in-law, King Zandor, had been away on diplomatic duties with Ralitle at the time, also suffered dearly from the assassination. He had lost his wife and his soulmate without even getting a chance to say goodbye. Quickly, she pushed those feelings of sadness into the back of her mind. She couldn't dwell on the past any longer than necessary.  
  
"Don't you understand Rathan? Nitcho is friends with Khivar. If I can get close to him, I can find out about Khivar. I can find out if Khivar's responsible for Lyra and Mom and Dad's death."  
  
Rath tightened his grip on Khorel and looked her sternly in the eye. "You will not go near him," he said, making each word sound like a separate sentence.  
  
Khorel pulled away. "And who are you to tell me otherwise?"  
  
"You're brother," Rathan replied as he followed Khorel down the hallway. "And your elder."  
  
Khorel glared at him in fury. Why must he be so stubborn all the time? "Look Rath," she began, stopping both of them dead in their tracks, "I don't care what you do or say to prevent me from using Nitcho for information. I'm going to and you can't stop me."  
  
"Khorel," Rath protested, but his sister would have nothing of it. Without another word, she stormed down the hallway, not once looking back at the furious brother she left behind.  
  
***  
  
Three days later.  
  
"Zan!" Rathan shouted angrily, barging in to the throne room. A couple of servants scattered in terror at Rath's sudden outburst, and the King looked up from the table at which he worked. His mother, Queen Shayna, looked at her son-in-law calmly, nodding her head only slightly in acknowledgement. Zandor's deep, soulful brown eyes met Rathan's fury filled ones and he stood.  
  
"So, she told you?"  
  
"Damn right she did. Zan, how the techin' hell could you allow her to do this?" Rath's hands clenched into fists as he took giant steps towards his King.  
  
"She is no longer a child," Zandar replied calmly and regally. His crown was slightly lopsided on his golden brown hair and his heart-shaped face crinkled into a sad smile. "Khorel came to me after you refused to allow her entrance into the Royal Army. She explained her position and idea rationally and persuasively. I thought-"  
  
"Damn it Zan!" Rath interrupted, slamming his right fist into the table. "I don't care what you thought. That's my baby sister you just sent away.to Nitcho no less! You know as well as I do that he's Khivar's right hand man. We've had our men watching him for months."  
  
"Precisely my point." Zan gestured to a chair near his. "Why don't you sit, this way I can be sure that you will not attack me in anger, friend." He chuckled slightly and Rathan glared, and then sat down hard. Zandar followed suit, and Shayna took the seat next to him.  
  
"Although your soldiers have gathered much evidence against Nitcho, there is still much more we do not know about Khivar's plan to overthrow my House. By having someone who Nitcho trusts infiltrate his life, we should be able to learn a lot more. Don't worry, I have made sure Nitcho knows nothing about Khorel's connections to the royal family."  
  
"You're still using my sister as bait," Rathan growled.  
  
"And I take it that if I had sent you, you would have no objections to risking your life?"  
  
Rathan sighed and stared at the baroque ceilings. After a minute, he looked back towards his friend. "You have no right to send her without my consent."  
  
"Do I?" Zandor countered. "Last time I checked, I was the King and you were the Second, not the other way around."  
  
"And if it were Vilandra? Would you send her to the enemy?" Rathan looked at both Zandar and Shayna carefully, spotting a flicker of sadness in the Queen Mother's eyes. "Zan?"  
  
Zandar bowed his head in sadness. "I already have. Vilandra's on Seridon right now, rekindling the flame she once had with Khivar. We've been receiving transmissions from her daily."  
  
All the anger dissipated from Rathan's face, a haunted look replacing it. "Are you making me loose everyone I have ever loved?" His voice cracked as he continued, "First Lyra, and now Kor and Vila? Zan.Anta.Zan, how could you?"  
  
"And do you not think I am any stranger to loss?" Zan hissed. "I loved Lyraeve more than life itself. And I just sent my own sister, and another who may as well be my blood sister, to possible death?" He paused, unsure of what to say next. "Rath, I am trying to do what's good for Antar, what's good for my people. I never wanted to be king. You know that."  
  
The two men sat in silence, neither meeting the other's eyes. Rathan absent-mindedly played with a golden button on his uniform while Zandor vaguely attempted to organize the papers that scattered when Rathan had pounded the table. Neither wanted to admit that the other had a point, nor that they would concede, and so, the silence continued.  
  
"If I agree to clone Khorel, as I have done with Lyraeve, my children, and yourself, would you allow her to go to Krypton under Jor-El's protection to spy for my son?" Queen Shayna spoke softly, confident that Rathan would accept the proposition. She stood while speaking, her age not at all reflected by her influential and authoritative stature.  
  
"I have previously sent Lyraeve's incubation pod to Earth, where you will join her if anything happens to the Royals in the inevitable struggle. I am willing to do the same for your other sister, despite her lack of connection to the Royal House."  
  
Rathan looked up at his monarch and nodded. He stood, and walked towards the exit of the throne room. "If anything dare happens to Khorel while she's on Krypton for you, Zan, Anta help you, cause She knows I won't. Thank you, your majesty," Rathan bowed to Queen Mother Shayna, "I will accept your deal."  
  
***  
  
Five months later.  
  
Khorel sighed in frustration as she waited in front of the telecomm to receive a transmission from her brother. Jor-El, one of Krypton's foremost budding scientists, Khorel's friend and boss, and the only soul on the planet who knew her actual purpose on Krypton, had given her the day off to spend with Nitcho. Being a spy was nothing like she imagined. Since she finished her schooling, she worked as a freelance writer for a Antarian publication on Krypton, and, to pay for her life on the planet, since Rath had refused her any connections to the royal family, and as a secretary for Jor-El. A few years her elder, she had met him during her previous stay on the planet and had remained close friends. Jor-El was also a close, personal friend of Zan's, and the king had placed her under his guidance when Khorel arrived, to ease Rathan's peace of mind.  
  
However, today, Nitcho had shown up late for their date, and Khorel had become too impatient to wait. So, she had left him a note, telling the Seridonian man to meet her at the telecomm center. Kor banged on the telecomm impatiently, wanting her brother to call. She had awoken in the morning with a horrible feeling in her gut, and needed to see his face.  
  
"Khorel?" A deep voice came from behind. "I thought you'd realize by now that hitting the telecomm won't make it work any better."  
  
Khorel turned around to see Nitcho standing beside her. A complete contrast to Antarians, Seridonians could not survive on any other planet in the system except their own acidic nitrogenous environment. Where as Antarians shifted shape to fit in with the inhabitants of whatever planet they were currently on if the need be, Seridonians relied on an external suit that shielded them from the external environment and mimicked the Seridon atmosphere internally. The suit, more commonly called SKINS, that Nitcho had picked was that of a handsome Kryptonian man close to her age, with blackish blue hair like her own, and piercing brown eyes.  
  
He walked up to her and kissed her quickly on the lips. Khorel blushed, still not used to his expressions of endearment to her. She smiled at him and walked away from the telecomm. "Well, not all of us have the ingenuity you process with machinery. Some of us have to make do with more.crude.methods."  
  
He grinned and followed her as they walked to a nearby bench. They sat, angling their bodies to face towards each other. "Who were you waiting to call?"  
  
"My brother," Khorel replied. "We had a fight yesterday, and I was hoping he'd call so we could make up."  
  
Nitcho narrowed his eyes in curiosity, snaking his arm around her shoulder, pulling the Antarian girl close to him. "What about?"  
  
"Oh, nothing that important," she lied.  
  
In truth, they had argued about her H.R.C., Hybrid Reincarnation Clone. Rathan had told her months ago that Queen Shayna had agreed to create an H.R.C. for her in case anything happened. An expensive trial procedure that had yet to be fully tested, Khorel had consented only because Rathan had given her no choice. Besides, this meant, that years from now, she would be able to see her sister and brother again, if something were to happen to her life now. She rejoiced in that fact. However, Khorel did not want to be sent to Earth like Lyra and the Royal Four, as her brother, Vila, Zan, and his new bride Avieheina were now known. She had expressed desires of living out her life on Krypton, and Rathan completely objected. In the end, she won the fight, but she was afraid of what cost.  
  
"Are you sure? You seem somewhat more upset over something not that important than you should be," Nitcho stated.  
  
Khorel shook her head. "No, I'm fine." She smiled. "See, just fine."  
  
Nitcho stood up, offering his hand to Khorel. "If that's the case then, let's go somewhere more private than the Telecomm Center. I have something imperative to discuss with you."  
  
Khorel's heart skipped a beat. Did Nitcho finally trust her enough to ask her to join him in the fight against Antar? If so, then she would finally have something substantial to send back to Zan and Rath, and could finally prove that all this was worth while. And in the nick of time too. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her system, and tried to suppress her eagerness.  
  
"Okay," Kor smiled broadly, her emerald eyes gleaming. They began to walk, when Khorel quickly stopped. "Just one second. I need to let Jor-El know that I might be late tonight. I promised to help him out with research later today."  
  
Nitcho smiled and let go of her hand. Khorel hurried towards the nearest vid booth across the street. Better to be safe than sorry.  
  
***  
  
A Week Later.  
  
Queen Shayna hurried down the passage way. Within hours after Zandar's assassination, she and those most loyal to her and the House of Regolus managed to move underground, quickly and efficiently. Now, Khivar controlled Antar and Seridon, with little to stop him from taking over the remaining three planets. Yesterday had been her people's saddest day. Her children were killed in the struggle, trying to protect their people and make it out of the castle along side. Aveihiena had turned traitor, revealing she had been Khivar's mole in the palace all along, and yet, was murdered the minute she rushed to her fallen husband's side. Rathan was killed at the front lines with many of Antar's best men and women. Even Khorel had died at the hand of a Seridonian, minutes after hearing of her brother's death.  
  
Despite the tragedies, Shayna had no time to grieve. She had been preparing for this misfortune ever since terrorists had attacked the former Queen Lyraeve and her parents. And, thank Anta, all the bodies had been recovered. The final steps of creating the H.R.C.s for Zandar, Vilandra, Rathan, Aveihiena, and Khorel could proceed. Their Antarian genes and souls would be mixed with human DNA, hopefully as successfully as Lyraeve's procedure had gone. Then, under the guidance of her most trusted officials, the Royal Four and Lyraeve could grow up on Earth, out of Khivar's sight, and someday come back to free her people and herself.  
  
She would pray for that day for the rest of her life, however long it may be.  
  
***  
  
Forty-Two Years Later.  
  
Another tremor shook Jor-El's laboratory, knocking some tubes and containers off a shelf, spilling chemicals onto his workstation. Lara clutched her baby son close to her chest as she watched the chemicals spill from the desk to the floor. Another tremor caused more glass to break, and she jumped, startled. Quickly, she walked away from the workstation, towards the incubation pod that contained Jor-El's old friend from Antar. She leaned against it more so out of comfort from its warmth than for support. At the sound of more glass breaking, her baby began to cry.  
  
"Shhh Kal-El," she whispered, trying to soothe the babe. She rocked him in her arms, trying to calm the baby down. "Shh, Kal-El." She adjusted him in her shoulders so the one-year old child could see around him. "Look at Khorel," she whispered. "She's not afraid. You don't have to be either."  
  
True, the baby in the incubation pod was not afraid, but only because it was completely unaware of what was happening around her. Lara regarded the pod suspiciously when the former Queen Shayna of Antar first sent it to Jor- El, and then, for years after, wondered why the child in it aged so slowly. Her husband had tried to explain to her that this was because the child was designed for Earth, not Krypton, and their red sun had caused her to age slower than expected. After a while, Lara didn't care. She looked after the pod when Jor-El couldn't until Kal-El was born. Then her own baby occupied most of her life. A life which she might not be able to continue.  
  
Pushing the bleak thoughts out of her mind, Lara continued to rock the baby in her arms. She was becoming impatient for her husband to return from the Council meeting. Whatever the outcome, Lara already knew from Jor-El's research that their future, and the future of any on Krypton, was bleak. But she wanted her husband here to console her.  
  
As if someone answered her prayers, the laboratory door let out a puff of gas as it lifted upwards. Jor-El rushed in, still dressed in his formal Council robes. His black hair tinged with silver looked like a mess, not at all as neat and professional as normal. His eyes were full with worry, fear, and love. He rushed over the Lara and hugged her tightly, running his hand over his son's head. When they broke apart, Jor-El briefly ran a finger over the top of Khorel's incubation pod, tears that had previously formed in his eyes spilling.  
  
"It's not good, is it?" Lara asked softly.  
  
Jor-El shook his head. "They refuse to believe that Krypton has been breaking apart. I fear that we only have hours left before the planet explodes. And those idiots on the Council refuse to send anyone to Antar or one of the other five planets in the system. They've issued our death sentence by docking all ships."  
  
Lara's eyes began to water. "There is nothing we can do?"  
  
Jor-El stood silent for a moment, studying his wife's crimson hair and deep brown eyes. He memorized ever feature that he could possibly see, wanting to preserve forever the image of Lara and his son. He then quickly turned and walked towards his workbench, reaching past the chemicals to open a secret vault in the wall. He pulled out a crystal, and two pentagonal keys.  
  
"We have to send Kal-El and Khorel away from Krypton. To Earth. Shayna and Zandar knew what they were doing when they picked that planet for the H.R.C.s. The people there resemble Kryptonians to a startling degree. Kal- El will be able to grow up there without suspicion from others. And Khorel will be able to find her brother and sister. They will be safe, and hopefully, loved."  
  
Lara walked over to her husband, briefly having to stop in her tracks as tremor shook the laboratory, this one worse than the previous. "The crystal. The message you had us prepare.for Kal-El on Earth? But, Jor-El, how will he live? How will we know that he'll be cared for, and loved?"  
  
Jor-El picked up his son from his wife's arms. Gently, he wrapped the boy in a red blanket and placed him in one of the ships. "We have no choice. It's either that or he dies. I only regret we cannot go with him."  
  
"Can't we Jor-El? If we can send Kal-El and Khorel across space, can't we send ourselves," Lara asked desperately, looking up at her husband only briefly as he worked to lift Khorel's pod into the ship next to Kal-El. He shook his head softly, and Lara began to cry, her tears falling on Kal-El's head. The baby giggled as the drops hit him.  
  
"I love you," Lara whispered to Kal-El as she looked at him one last time before Jor-El closed the lid of the spaceship. "Always."  
  
Jor-El pulled Lara into an embrace as the spaceships flew into Krypton's night sky. "Come," he said. "Perhaps we can still see one more sunrise together."  
  
And together they held to each other tightly as their world ended in a fiery explosion.  
  
TBC. 


	2. Chapter 1

Friday Night  
Espial  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"I swear, if we visit in one more museum, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions," Michael Guerin growled. He came to a dead stop in front of the Metropolis Museum of Art, refusing to take another step forward.  
  
His companion, Maria DeLuca, stopped and turned around upon realizing that Michael was no longer following her. She stormed towards him and swatted her boyfriend on the back. "You were the one who wanted to get out of cow country so badly. Deal."  
  
With that, the blonde turned her back to Michael and walked to the rest of their friends, where they stood close to the museum entrance, huddled in a circle by a marble column, under a large, red sign reading something about the DiVinnci exhibition the M.M.A. had on display. Maria turned around once more before joining the group to see if Michael was following. He smirked at her and Maria sighed in frustration, causing Michel to hide a smile. He glanced briefly at the museum, its Greek temple like structure with it's marble columns and the long plaza that separated it from the street, looked longingly at the McDonalds on the other side of the road. His stomach made no question of which Michael would prefer. Unfortunately, his friends thought otherwise.  
  
"I still can't believe that you and Liz are related," Maria muttered in disgust as Michael finally joined the group of six other teenagers.  
  
"Trust me, you're not the only one," Liz Parker-Evans quipped, flashing a quick grin at her brother.  
  
Not usually the sentimental or reminiscent type, Michael couldn't believe all that had happened since leaving Roswell. It had been a little under a year since the teenagers had left their home in the middle of their high school graduation ceremony. The choice had been clear for Michael, Max Evans, Isabel Rameriz, and Liz: if they stayed in their hometown, they would surely die or be test subjects for whatever reincarnation of the Special Unit the government developed. While Kyle Valenti and Maria were, and yet remained, the only two quote unquote normal ones in the group - Kyle surprisingly never developing alien powers as a result of Max's healing - the two still decided to join their other four friends in a sort of exile, not ready to let go of the ties fostered from three years of events that had been set into whirlwind motion ever since Max Evans healed Liz Parker as she lay bleeding to death on the floor of the Crashdown Café, fall of their sophomore year.  
  
Almost nine months on the run, and they had become good at blending in when not wanting to be found. Subterfuge had been their ultimate plan, aside from hopping from state to state, and it worked. Yet, like every well thought out plan, there were always hitches. The few close calls that always almost meant the death of one of the teenagers, the couple of times Kyle or Maria, heck, any of them, would get them lost in the middle of no where. Life hadn't been dull, and certainly increased in its zest since reuniting with Ava, the New York City punk 'dupe' of Tess Harding, the fourth alien in the original four square of their's, the one time confidant, murderer, and betrayer. Yet, Ava was the polar opposite of her look alike and after a rocky beginning, she soon was adopted into Michael's surrogate family.  
  
But with every new twist in life comes new discoveries and surprises, Michael thought, an uncharacteristic thought for the usually blunt and indifferent boy. In Ava's case, she brought with them links to their pasts on Antar. Not just information, but a method in which the aliens could harness to begin the long journey of Remembering who they once were. Perhaps the most shocking discovery they had made, only two months ago, was of Michael's family: two younger sisters, one of which was Liz.  
  
"Ouch!" Michael glanced up in surprise, his previous trip down memory lane abruptly ending as Maria jabbed him in the stomach to get his attention. He narrowed his eyes at her in slight anger, but Maria just smiled and blew him a kiss.  
  
"If we're done discussing me like I'm not here, can someone tell me what the hell we're doing in front of another museum?"  
  
Maria smiled secretly and Michael had a fleeting moment of doubt in his question.  
  
"Well, Michael," Max Evans, the tall, dark-haired leader of the group, began, "Maria's filled us in on your lack of love for museums-"  
  
"More like utter and complete distaste," the pixie-like girl interrupted. She met Michael in the eye; her brown one's sparkling. "And if I ever want to maintain a healthy and active relationsh-"  
  
"Ew," Isabel, Max's sister, groaned, stopping Maria in mid-sentence. "I do NOT want to here about yours and Michael's love lives."  
  
"Ditto," Kyle chimed in, grinning. Maria huffed but let it go.  
  
"We thought we'd do something else while in Metropolis," Liz said softly yet assertively, finishing her husband's original thought.  
  
Out of the corner of his eyes, Michael noticed Isabel roll her eyes and Kyle snicker, Ava's eyes looking towards the ground, her short bobbed blond hair with black streaks covering her face, in retort to the ever-growing connection and unison between Max and Liz. Ever since their marriage, the two had grown nothing but closer, if even possible, and it seemed at times that they could just about communicate telepathically, always finishing the other's senate. To Michael, it was just sickening, especially after learning Liz was his sister. Sill, from that approach, he couldn't ask for a better man than his surrogate brother for his sister to marry.  
  
"Actually," Max continued, "we're going to split up. It's been a while since we've heard from the Special Unit, and we should be relatively safe here in a large city. I think it would be okay if each of us decided to spend the rest of the day - and the night - in whichever way we choose. Okay with everyone?"  
  
"Are you kidding? That's the best suggestion you've had in a while Max," his sister, Isabel, commented. "I'll see you guys at the motel later."  
  
With that, the tall, pretty, short-haired alien girl walked away from the group. Michael had no guesses as to where she was going. Back to the motel, to dreamwalk her husband, Jesse Ramirez, and let him know how she was doing. At first, Max had been opposed to any contact with the outside world, but after an argument that Michael was convinced could have rivaled World War II, gave in to Isabel's demand of dreamwalking Jesse. She had been doing so every night since. He watched as she walked. Outside, Isabel hadn't changed much since they left Roswell. However, like the rest of them, she had learn the value of the normal, basic aspects of life people took for granted. And for living to see another day.  
  
"Well, then, we're off too," Kyle spoke up, grabbing Ava's hand. She smiled shyly at him, still adjusting to her new position in the group.  
  
Michael briefly acknowledged that the girl had a difficult life growing up with the rest of the duplicates, much in a ways to his own childhood with Hank. He was sympathetic, and knew that someday soon, Ava would open up to more than just Kyle and Liz.  
  
Kyle grinned at the group and his green eyes smiled. "I'm off to find Kyle a girl. Buddha be with me tonight!" Realizing he had grabbed Ava's hand, Kyle stopped mid-step, his face bashful and embarrassed. "And a guy. For Ava. Of course," he stammered, causing both he and Ava to blush.  
  
Maria had mentioned a possible whiff of attraction between Valenti and Ava, but Michael wasn't sure, causing Maria to call him oblivious. He dismissed it off as another one of Maria's crazy delusions, not that he'd ever tell her that.  
  
"Laters," Ava said as she and Kyle waved goodbye. Michael turned to see Max and Liz walking off without bothering with a farewell, holding hands in that lovey-dovey way they had almost perfected.  
  
"Guess it's just you and me, huh, spaceboy?" Maria said, looking Michael in the eyes. "Come on," she tugged his hand as she began to walk away. "I wanna go see a movie tonight."  
  
Michael grimaced. As much as he loved his crazy, spitfire girlfriend, a movie meant a long, expensive, exhausting night.  
  
***  
  
Liz held her husband's hand tightly as they walked along the streetlamp lit Metropolis street later that evening. Their arms swung back and forth in a lazy rhythm that matched their slow and steady pace. Life couldn't be more peaceful at the moment. She stole and glance up at Max's face to see his soulful brown eyes staring straight at hers. Even eight months into their marriage and Max still looked at Liz as if he were seeing her for the first time. Liz knew she had a lifetime of this to look forward too. And someday in the future, when the government threat was gone, they would go home to Roswell and renew their vows in front of their family and friends, everyone they held dear. Until then, however, Liz savored everyday with Max, and with her brother and family of friends.  
  
"So, what do you want to do next?" Max asked, smiling down at Liz.  
  
She tucked a strand of her long, silky brown hair behind her right ear as they came to a stop in their stroll. Lazy afternoons such as this were becoming more and more common. For the first five months after leaving Roswell, the group of six always seemed to have been in constant pursuit by the FBI. However, at some point in their journey, somewhere on route through Colorado, Michael had taken a wrong turn in the road, and miraculously managed to evade their pursuers. The next two months were spend lying low in a tiny town, in which, coincidentally, they encountered Ava, until finally, Max had felt confident to continue their trip. Ever since arriving in Kansas, pressures and concerns of the past no longer seemed to apply. Although Max, Liz, Michael, Isabel, Maria, Ava, and Kyle still remained very cautious at every turn, it was as if the government had finally given up, and for the first time in months, they were free to enjoy their lives.  
  
Liz looked up at Max, a huge smile on her face. "You pick. I was the one who decided to go to stroll through Center Park."  
  
Max paused thoughtfully. His eyes studied the area around them. He turned slightly, trying to get a good view of the city. After a few moments, his eyes stopped to rest on one particular building. His hand still grasping Liz's, he began to walk towards that building.  
  
"The Daily Planet, Max?" Liz asked, as the approached the building. She looked upward at the giant golden globe on the roof and then back to her husband. "I never pictured you as a news hound."  
  
"I guess I'm just full of surprises," Max whispered, his face close to hers. His lips then descended upon hers, and his arms pulled her body close to his, wrapping her in his embrace. When they finally broke apart, Max smiled warmly at Liz. She sighed, and returned the look.  
  
"Come on," Max said, suddenly returning to a more playful demeanor. "My cousin once visited Metropolis and went on a tour of the building. Don't you want to see how a newspaper is run?"  
  
Liz giggled. Max was so enthusiastic, though she suspected it had more so to do with their newfound freedom to do whatever they wanted than seeing a newspaper at work.  
  
She shrugged. "Why not? Could be interesting."  
  
"That's one of the things I love about you, Liz," Max spoke in pure seriousness. "You're always willing to try something new."  
  
Liz smiled as they walked in to the Daily Planet building. Her husband always made her feel like the only girl on this planet, or any other for that matter. And a relaxing tour of the news industry, it couldn't be that bad, could it?  
  
***  
  
Clark Kent watched as the brilliant yellow sun slowly melted into the horizon, a golden corn field, miles away from where he sat in the barn loft, his own Fortress of Solitude. He ran a hand through his thick, wavy black hair, not at all phased as the remaining beams of the dying sunlight hit his eyes. His blue-green eyes diverted only momentarily to look at his telescope, in which was set to peer at the heavens later that night. He looked back at the sunset, now only seeing a few remaining rays of light peaking up from behind the field, like a kid peaking one eye through covered hands. The teenaged boy smiled crookedly, as lost in thoughts as with the sunset.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts." A friendly, female voice startled Clark from his reverie. So caught up in his own personal dilemmas, the boy with normally amazingly excellent hearing never heard anybody enter the barn this time. He turned around quickly, and smiled upon seeing Lana Lang walk from the steps of the loft.  
  
She looked as radiant as ever to Clark, bathed in the dimming sunlight, the glow casting a halo around her hair and body. She brushed back a lock of silky black hair and smiled at Clark warmly. The pink sweater she wore seemed to radiate in the light, providing a deep contrast to the dimly lit barn's brown tones. He paused in step, stopping to reflect. A year ago, seeing Lana like this would have caused Clark's heart to skip a beat. Yet, so much had happened in a space of a year.  
  
Only recently, Clark had discovered his origins, somewhat. Dr. Virgil Swann, of New York told him he was from Krypton, told him a message from a planet long dead. The thought that he was alone, the only one of his kind, the only link to his planet plagued him for a couple of weeks. Slowly, he began to build up reason, that his parents sent him here to save his life and he must be on Earth for some higher purpose. It still ached. And, unfortunately, that wasn't his only problem. Still, there were other things to consider. He no longer mooned over Lana. His thoughts had drifted to other people, other girls, within this yearly span. Though usually thoughts would always return to Lana, lately, he'd been thinking of another girl. One that he'd known for a short time, but what had seemed like forever. He wasn't sure what this meant, or even what he even wanted any more.  
  
"Your mother told me I can find you up here," Lana continued, filling the uncomfortable silence of the barn.  
  
She walked over to where Clark stood, only inches away from the window. The remaining trickles of light had long since disappeared over the horizon, and now, the only light that illuminated the barn was from the moon and a small desktop lamp. Lana looked at Clark, somewhat puzzled when he didn't look back at her. She placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.  
  
"Everything okay, Clark?"  
  
Clark's eyes left the window to study the girl beside him. Why was it that now that it seemed he had fulfilled the dream of every guy from Smallville High - being possibly inches away from being the next boyfriend of the unattainable Lana Lang - that it just didn't seem enough anymore? He wondered. Clark knew that that was only half the problem. The other half was the fact that Chloe had scarcely been speaking to him, ever since he recovered from his illness. Perhaps the only time they really talked the past couple of weeks was over Swann. Even that uneventful car ride the day he lit his barn on fire with the heat vision was silent, Chloe unusually quiet considering the events that had happened. Their easygoing friendship had been replaced by something awkward, and that was only if Chloe spent more than five seconds around him. He missed it.  
  
"Just thinking," Clark replied.  
  
"Anything you can tell me?" Lana pried. "Maybe I can help."  
  
"It's just." Clark trailed off. He briefly looked at Lana, and then quickly looked away. How was he supposed to talk to the girl of his dreams about another girl, especially one that they were both close friends with?  
  
Lana took his hand and looked up at him, hazel eyes pleading for him to open up to her. "Clark, you know you can tell me anything."  
  
Clark grinned softly at her. Not his usual, full wattage grin, but a smile none the less.  
  
"It's Chloe," he finally admitted. "She's been ignoring me lately, and I don't know why." He looked directly at Lana as he spoke, his face lit with some emotion that the girl couldn't quite place. "And, well, I guess it's been bothering me more than I'd expect." He paused. "You don't know why she's been distant, have you?"  
  
Lana quickly diverted her eyes, bowing her head at an angle, not wanting to meet Clark's face. She had her suspicions on Chloe's recent behavior, all of it relating back to a letter she had found in the trash in the Torch office, a brief conversation the two had shared that same day, and a look Chloe had given her and Clark at the Talon later that evening. Aside from that, her roommate's emotions and thoughts remained a mystery, one of the few times since becoming such close friends.  
  
"No," she said, looking downward briefly and then towards Clark. "You know, I have no idea."  
  
"It's okay Lana," Clark replied, his eyes never leaving her face.  
  
Lana squirmed, slightly uncomfortable. She couldn't help but feel that Clark was scrutinizing her. She knew he couldn't read minds so had nothing to worry about. Lana bit her bottom lip and looked up at Clark.  
  
"I didn't really expect you to know anything," Clark muttered, turning the opposite direction. He ran a hand through his wavy hair and Lana sighed. He could be so trusting at times. It was one of the things that she loved about him.  
  
She placed a hand on his shoulder again, this time to urge him to continue. "Clark?"  
  
"It's just.I don't even know why it should bother me so much," he spoke to the ceiling, his voice full of frustration. Clark glanced at Lana and she smiled reassuringly. "It's not like we haven't had fights before that resulted in us not speaking for a while. I survived the whole summer without Chloe when she was in Metropolis."  
  
Clark paused and Lana took this moment to recompose mentally. It was as if her worst fear was coming true. Like she was suddenly back in last spring, when Clark had started to develop feelings for Chloe. Back then, it had hurt somewhat, but her preoccupation with Whitney helped to ease the pain of loosing Clark's devotion. But now that she had had Clark's attention and love for herself, well, for the most part, as selfish as it sounds, she didn't want to let it go. Even to her best friend. Lana wanted Clark to herself, not even sharing his affections seemed acceptable. But, then again, thinking back to those strange parasites that had infected Chloe and Pete a month ago, she supposed that Clark must have had some lingering of feelings for the blonde if he kissed her back so willingly in the Talon. Lana sighed and laid her head on the back of the couch. It didn't mean she had to like it though.  
  
Clark studied Lana as she watched him from the couch. Her brown hair enveloped her head. She looked so pretty to him, but again, Clark found himself realizing that he no longer thought her as gorgeous as he would have a year ago. Something was wrong with him, and he hated not knowing what.  
  
"It's just that I can't recall any arguments we've had recently," Clark said, breaking the silence that had settled between the two friends. "It seems that she just woke up one morning while I was sick and decided that she wasn't going to bother with me anymore or something. That I wasn't worth it."  
  
Clark stopped. He had said it. All those words, thoughts, and feelings that had been building up inside of him for the past couple of weeks that had nothing to do with him being the last of his species. He felt like part of a weight had been lifted off him. Almost everything was out in the open now. And to Lana, someone he knew he could talk to and trust with his secrets and feelings.  
  
"I'm sure she doesn't think that," Lana said a couple of moments later. "Trust me, she-" Lana stopped mid-thought.  
  
"She what, Lana," Clark asked, curiosity peaked.  
  
Lana sighed into her chair. This is what happened when you're in love with the same man as your best friend, she thought.  
  
"She thinks you're worth it."  
  
***  
  
Liz surpressed a giggle as Max tickled the palm of her hand, shortly distracting her from the tour guide's monotonous drawl on the history of The Daily Planet. She pulled her hand out of his abruptly, in an effort to maintain her dignity. Max pouted and Liz smiled. Her husband could be so carefree when they were alone and when the weight of the world (or worlds in their case) no longer rested on his shoulders. She treasured these times, and Liz knew full well that Max did too. They were often few and far in between.  
  
"Max," she whispered, half scolding him, "we're supposed to be paying attention here."  
  
Max moved closer to his wife, his face almost hidden in her hair. He inhaled a scent that was uniquely Liz and sighed. This was what home was, he decided, Liz. "I don't see anyone complaining," he murmured flirtatiously in her ear.  
  
Trying not to laugh, Liz elbowed Max in the stomach. He pretended to groan in agony at her slight punch, and Liz took that opportunity to move further up in the crowd. A moment later, Max stood beside her, their previous fooling put aside for a couple more hours dignity. He grabbed her hand again; careful to resist the temptation of tickling, and listened attentively as the tour guide slowly explained the old printing presses used by the early twentieth century Planet.  
  
As the tour guide talked, Liz's eyes slowly began to wander from the old turn of the century machine to other sections of the room. She was positive that this tour would have been far more interesting if only they had anyone else but the young, pimply, dull teenager as their guide. It was a shame, and Liz knew it, simultaneously feeling sorry for the boy. Thoughts drifting along with eyes, she stared at a stack of boxes a couple of feet away from her, unaware that she was doing so. Her eyes settled upon an old copy of the newspaper, probably from a couple of months ago, and scanned the headline "Prodigal Luthor Son Returns."  
  
She reached out to grab the paper to read the full article, briefly pausing when trying to remember why she never recalled hearing about this event. She brushed it off, realizing that it probably occurred around the time they were hiding from civilization rather than around a time in which they could actually incorporate themselves into a town. As Liz's hand closed around the folded sheets of paper, her fingers slightly touching a photograph of Lex, Lionel, and Lucas Luthor, images flowed into her mind and the teenager instinctively reached for her head as if it would stop the incoming stampede of visions.  
  
FLASH! A bald man dressed in a crimson red satin shirt with a black overcoat sits at a glass table, with a computer to one side and a lamp to another, in front of a large, tiled, glass window, in a large wooden walled room with various colored glass vases and other antiques fancifully scattered around. He sorts through a stack of files on his desk.  
  
FLASH! An image of Nicholas as the thirteen-year-old boy she remembered the Skin as last time he was in Roswell.  
  
FLASH! The image of Nicholas suddenly replaced by that of a handsome older man in his early twenties, with dark black hair, tinted with blue, and piercing brown eyes, wearing a sinister grin on his face.  
  
FLASH! The dark-haired man approaches the bald man at the desk. "My father sent me to oversee the deal you made with him. I hope to find everything according," he says. The bald man replies and the two shake hands on a deal.  
  
FLASH! The scenery rushes down a road in the middle of cornfields. A brightly colored sign on the side of the road passes by quickly. It reads "Welcome to Smallville: Meteor Capital of the World." Smallville.  
  
The visions stopped as suddenly as they started and Liz gasped for breath, comprehending what they meant. Their enemies were back.  
  
TBC. 


End file.
